


yeah, you should be loving someone

by spaceburgers



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, POV Outsider, kasamatsu is kaijou's coach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 06:46:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6228076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceburgers/pseuds/spaceburgers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one can quite figure out Coach Kasamatsu.</p>
            </blockquote>





	yeah, you should be loving someone

**Author's Note:**

> credit for this fic idea goes to isa! i'm sorry i still owe you smut but i hope this suffices in the meantime
> 
> title from loving someone by the 1975

Hideki is fifteen. He’s a freshman at Kaijou High School, scraped through the entrance exams by the skin of his teeth, but he’s here anyway so it doesn’t matter. It’s not a secret that most of the reason why he decided to come here at all was because of their basketball team, and the day he finds out he’s made it on the team he almost passes out from sheer relief.

It’s their first practice of the year today, and although part of him is incredibly excited about it, the other part of him is mostly just scared shitless—of his other teammates, of the upperclassmen, of how incredibly hard it's going to be.

And then there’s Coach Kasamatsu.

He’s heard many, many rumors about him, some even before he even came to this school at all. There are the facts that he knows are true: that he used to be captain of the Kaijou basketball team himself, for one. That it hasn’t been long since he graduated from high school himself. That he led Kaijou to victory at the Interhighs last year.

Then there are the ones that he _doesn’t_.

People say he’s a complete hardass. That he has training regiments that can drive the biggest and toughest of third-years to tears. That if you give him a shitty reason for trying to leave early from practice you end up having to run extra laps till you’re an hour late instead. That he never misses a single three-pointer. That he has a really weird thing about injuries—did he suffer a serious one in high school? No one knows, because he’s apparently notoriously tight-lipped about anything to do with his personal life. No one even knows what college he went to, or if he’s married or not, or if he even has a life at all outside of coaching.

Hence fueling even more rumors.

But, Hideki reasons, he’ll find out once and for all today. He changes into his gym clothes, laces up his new basketball shoes, and then heads to the gym.

It goes well. He meets the other freshmen, is pleasantly surprised when he sees a few faces he recognizes from his homeroom class. His captain seems pleasant enough, cracks a few jokes about himself and the other third-years before he gets down to business setting the ground rules for the team. Hideki listens attentively, nodding as it goes on, and then the captain spots someone from behind the row of first-years and says, “I’d like you to meet our coach!”

Hideki turns around, and there he is: Coach Kasamatsu. He looks exactly the same as he does in all those team photos Hideki’s seen in sports magazines. He’s not particularly tall, but it’s obvious even from a distance that he’s _built._ But what no photo can ever accurately depict is his sheer presence—every person is the room has turned to look at him, even the second- and third-years already practicing on the court.

Kasamatsu walks towards the first-years, closing the doors to the gym behind him as he goes. Hideki hears the person next to him suck in a sharp breath.

“Congratulations on making it to the team,” he says. His expression is stoic, no-nonsense. His blue eyes are hard; he crosses his arms. “Getting here was the easy part though,” he continues. “Now that you’re here, you’re expected to put your best foot forward for the whole team. That means you come for practice. You work hard. You don’t slack off.” He pauses, expression softening for a moment.

“You’re still freshmen,” he says. “You have a long way to go and a lot to learn—from your upperclassmen, and from each other. So don’t feel too disheartened if you’re not immediately meeting your expectations. You’ll definitely get there by your third year.”

Kasamatsu lets the words hang in the air for a moment. Hideki doesn’t know what to think. Mostly, he’s still in shock. Judging by the way the other first-years aren’t moving at all either, he’s pretty sure he’s not the only one feeling this way.

“Right,” he says, and then his face goes right back to the same stern mask. “Go ahead and take ten laps around the court to warm up. Your captain will supervise you.”

Hideki scampers right off, concentrates on pacing himself as he runs the laps, and maybe that’s why he doesn’t notice at all when someone enters the gym—he only realizes when he’s done with his rounds, falls back into line, and sees Kasamatsu arguing with someone who looks weirdly familiar—

“Is that,” someone says, “Kise Ryouta?”

And then all the first-years immediately break out into chatter, because holy shit, it _is_ —Kise Ryouta, internationally renowned supermodel, the face of practically every single Japanese fashion brand ever. It’s impossible for anyone to live in Japan and not know his name or, at the very least, recognize his face. Hideki knows that Kise went to Kaijou too, but from the way he’s grinning at Kasamatsu it’s obvious that the two of them actually _know_ each other.

“Are they friends?” someone asks their captain, mirroring Hideki’s thoughts. Their captain snorts.

“Sure,” he says. “ _Friends_.”

There’s an implication to the word that Hideki doesn’t quite catch, but he doesn’t dwell on it for too long because Kise’s bounding over towards them, and _holy shit_.

“Hi!” he chirps. “Yukio told me you guys are the new freshmen, right?”

 _Yukio?_ Hideki thinks.

“It feels like almost yesterday that I was in your position,” Kise continues, sighing dreamily. “All innocent and fresh-faced, and then Yukio over there—”

“Ryouta,” Kasamatsu interrupts, stepping up next to Kise. The exasperation in his face is practically palpable. “Can you just leave these poor boys alone?”

Hideki looks at Kasamatsu, then at Kise, then back at Kasamatsu, then back at Kise again.

 _Ryouta?_ he thinks, with increasing hysteria.

“I hardly think that’s how you should be treating the star of the Kaijou basketball team, who flawlessly led his team to complete victory—”

“What was it? Twenty years ago?” Kasamatsu says, and Kise squawks, actually _squawks._

“I’m not that old and you know it!” he cries. Kasamatsu rolls his eyes.

“Sorry, it’s just that sometimes I forget your age, considering the fact that you constantly act like you’re five,” he retorts. For some reason, Hideki gets the impression that this isn’t the first time they’ve had this argument. He turns to look at the person next to him, who looks equally baffled.

“Still so mean,” Kise sighs dramatically, looking up towards the ceiling. “Fine, fine, I’ll leave you alone. I’ll just go help out the third-years then,” he says, jerking his head towards the other side of the gym.

Kasamatsu’s expression softens. “Thank you,” he says. His voice is unexpectedly gentle. Kise smiles back, pats Kasamatsu on the shoulder, and then he’s off. Hideki watches as Kasamatsu’s eyes follow Kise as he crosses to the other side of the gym—then he blinks, turns back to the first-years abruptly.

“Sorry,” he says, folding his arms again. “Kise is—” He coughs. “An old friend. Sometimes he helps out with the team.”

There’s something here he’s missing, Hideki thinks. If only he could put a finger on it.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Kasamatsu says, raising his voice, “we’ll start off with some basic drills—”

Practice passes like that, and Hideki forgets about the strange encounter as he performs drill after drill for hours on end. He hasn’t even started on a real game yet and he’s already out of breath—they really weren’t kidding when they described Kasamatsu as a beast. Still, though, it’s a pleasant kind of ache that diffuses in his bones at the end of practice. He hits the showers with the rest of the team, chats easily with them, and by the time he’s ready to head home he already knows the rest of the first-years’ names and classes. He’s even found a couple of teammates who live near him, and they head home together, waving the rest of the team goodbye before taking the same path together.

“So, Kise Ryouta, huh?” one of them says. “What’s up with that?”

“I don’t know,” Hideki says, honestly. “It’s really, really strange though.”

As he speaks he reaches into his bag and— _shit_ , he left his wallet in the showers. He needs to get it back or he’s going to be in big trouble when he gets home, so he says as much to his teammates, waves them goodbye before turning around and heading back towards the school. Thankfully, the gates still aren’t locked yet and he manages to slip back into the gym easily, and—

And Kasamatsu and Kise are playing a one-on-one game of basketball. He stands frozen in the doorway, watches as Kasamatsu steals the ball from Kise, throws a three-pointer that falls through the hoop effortlessly. Kise yelps, and Kasamatsu grins at him, bright and easy and victorious, and something about that moment makes Hideki turn around again. He gets the weird feeling that he’s intruding on something, and so he turns to leave, wallet be damned—it can wait till tomorrow morning.

-

 

 

“First practice of the year always gets you nostalgic, huh?” Kise says, after their impromptu one-on-one game. They’re sitting cross-legged on the floor at the back of the gym, towels thrown around their shoulders. Kasamatsu turns to him, and he smiles.

“Yeah,” he agrees, and he takes Kise’s hand in his, so easy and effortless after all these years. Their fingers intertwine. Kise looks at him, considering.

“You should smile like that in front of your kids too,” he says, reaching out to trace the curve of Kasamatsu’s lips with his free hand. Kasamatsu laughs.

“I can’t,” he says. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

“All of them think you’re so scary,” Kise says, grinning. “But I know better.”

“Well, you’re working hard trying to damage my reputation as much as you can, though,” Kasamatsu jokes, and Kise laughs.

“Excuse me,” he says. “I’m _remodeling_ it. For the better.”

Kasamatsu snorts. “And here I thought you’d be pleased knowing you’re the only one who gets to see my soft side.”

Kise’s expression shifts. He squeezes Kasamatsu’s hand.

“I just think you should be nicer to your kids,” Kise murmurs, smiling.

“It’s called tough love,” Kasamatsu says. “As you should be aware.”

Kise looks at him, at his sweat-matted hair and the curve of his smile and the deep, deep blue of his eyes, and he thinks, _I love you so much_.

“I am,” he murmurs, and leans in.


End file.
